Reading Online Novel

The State of the Art(12)



up to his eye cluster.He shook it, then up-ended it

and stuck its top down at the leaves it had burned,

and shook it again.

He brought it back up to inspect it more closely.

Damn funny thing to have come out of a seed pod,

he thought, twisting the object this way and that.It

looked a little like a grazer except it was thinner

and silvery and the head was just a smooth

reflective sphere.Fropome could not work out how

it stayed upright.The over-large top made it look

especially unbalanced.Possibly it wasn't meant to

totter around for long; those pointed leg-like parts

were probably roots.The thing wriggled in his

grasp.

He tore off a little of the silvery outer bark and

tasted it in a nestrap.He spat it out again.Not

animal or vegetable; more like mineral.Very odd.

Root-pink tendrils squirmed at the end of the

stubby upper limb, where Fropome had torn the

outer covering off.Fropome looked at them, and

wondered.

He took hold of one of the little pink filaments and

pulled.

It came off with a faint 'pop'.Another, muffled-

sounding noise came from the silvery top of the

creature.

She loves me

Fropome pulled off another tendril.Pop.Sap the

colour of the setting sun dribbled out.

She loves me not

Pop pop pop.He completed that set of tendrils:

She loves me

Excited, Fropome pulled the covering off the end

of the other upper limb.More tendrilsShe loves me

not.

A grazer cub came up and pulled at one of

Fropome's lower branches.In its mouth it held the

silvery creature's burner device, which had hit it

on the flank.Fropome ignored it.

She loves me

The grazer cub gave up pulling at Fropome's

branch.It squatted down on the meadow, dropping

the burner on the grass and prodding inquisitively

at it with one paw.

The silvery seedlet was wriggling enthusiastically

in Fropome's grip, thin red sap spraying

everywhere.

Fropome completed the tendrils on the second

upper limb.

Pop.She loves me not.

Oh no!

The grazer cub licked the burner, tapped it with its

paw.One of the other cubs saw it playing with the

bright toy and started ambling over towards it.

On a hunch, Fropome tore the covering off the

blunt roots at the base of the creature.Ah ha!

She loves me

The grazer cub at Fropome's side got bored with

the shiny bauble; it was about to abandon the thing

where it lay when it saw its sibling approaching,

looking inquisitive.The first cub growled and

started trying to pick the burner up with its mouth.

Pop She loves me not!

Ah!Death!Shall my pollen never dust her perfectly

formed ovaries?Oh, wicked, balanced, so blandly

symmetrical even universe!

In his rage, Fropome ripped the silvery covering

right off the lower half of the leaking, weakly

struggling seedlet.

Oh unfair life!Oh trecherous stars!

The growling grazer cub hefted the burner device

into its mouth.

Something clicked.The cub's head exploded.

Fropome didn't pay too much attention.He was

staring intently at the bark-stripped creature he

held.

wait a moment there was something left.Up there,

just where the roots met

Thank heavens; the thing was odd after all!

Oh happy day!(pop)

She loves me!



Descendant



I am down, fallen as far as I am going

to.Outwardly, I am just something on the surface, a

body in a suit.Inwardly

Everything is difficult.I hurt.



I feel better now.This is the third day.All I recall

of the other two is that they were there; I don't

remember any details.I haven't been getting better

steadily, either, as what happened yesterday is

even more blurred than the day before, the day of

the fall.

I think I had the idea then that I was being born.A

primitive, old-fashioned, almost animal birth;

bloody and messy and dangerous.I took part and

watched at the same time; I was the born and the

birthing, and when, suddenly, I felt I could move, I

jerked upright, trying to sit up and wipe my eyes,

but my gloved hands hit the visor, centimetres in

front of my eyes, and I fell back, raising dust.I

blacked out.

Now it is the third day, however, and the suit and I

are in better shape, ready to move off, start

travelling.

I am sitting on a big rough rock in a boulderfield

halfway up a long, gently sloping escarpment.I

think it's a scarp.It might be the swell towards the

lip of the big crater, but I haven't spotted any

obvious secondaries that might belong to a hole in

the direction of the rise, and there's no evidence of

strata overflip.

Probably an escarpment then, and not too steep on

the other side, I hope.I prepare myself by thinking

of the way ahead before I actually start walking.I

suck at the little tube near my chin and draw some

thin, acidic stuff into my mouth.I swallow with an

effort.

The sky here is bright pink.It is mid-morning, and